


Sing Me To Sleep

by kibasniper



Series: Honorary Tales [7]
Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Drabble, Lullabies, M/M, Music, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 16:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kibasniper/pseuds/kibasniper
Summary: Jericho remembers the scar and the silence, but Herald is there to play for him.





	Sing Me To Sleep

Jericho still felt how the serrated edges carved against his flesh. He remembered his warm blood spurting out and staining his clothing, how his body became uncomfortably sticky and wet. His neck became a bursting dam flowing forth with his essence. Lightheadedness sank in immediately, blinding him with scarlet hues and imbuing his world with a sickening copper scent before everything went black. His mother’s scream echoed in his nightmares.

Suffice to say, knives bothered him. They would always serve as a point of irritation. Every time his eyes laid sight on them, his skin crawled with goosebumps. How his mirrored reflection in the knife showed his quiet terror left him swallowing down the past, fearing he would vomit the truth.

The scars were his ever-present reminder. Each time he undressed or briefly touched his neck, the scars tormented him. The coarse skin itched his chin whenever he dipped his head. Even when he covered the scars with high collars and scarves, the trauma remained fresh.

Jericho caressed the scars. The red tissue felt slightly sunken from where the blade pierced through his skin. Jericho stroked his neck through his collar, massaging his coarse neck.

“Hey, Jericho, you okay?”

Jericho smiled at the young man’s reflection in the mirror and nodded. The Herald had been more than sincere to him. Allowing him refuge in his apartment in Los Angeles was a kindness Jericho had not expected after the final battle with the Brotherhood of Evil. Jericho thought he would have returned to the mountains, which he did not mind, but the extension of companionship brightened his life.

He had been alone for too long. Isolating himself to hide from his father left him without anyone to truly connect with until the Titans arrived. Not even his mother knew his location despite their written correspondences. Each letter his mother penned was to a different location at their united behest. Protection and survival came above all else.

Jericho fixed the collar of his fleece nightshirt, one he borrowed from Herald. It was a bit loose, but it was comforting. The checkered, blue flannel dangled by his knees, and Jericho felt wrapped in a blanket of warmth whenever he wore it.

Herald stood up from his bed, dressed in a similar nightshirt. He gently wreathed his arms around Jericho’s stomach and kissed his cheek. He quietly urged Jericho to get some rest.

“We have patrolling to do tomorrow in Steel City since Titans East is gonna be off helping the Doom Patrol, right? Let’s get some sleep,” Herald murmured, gently tugging Jericho away from the wooden nightstand’s mirror.

Jericho nodded, slipping his hand on Herald’s palm. He raised his free hand, quickly signing a request. Herald’s deep mauve eyes widened. Herald let Jericho slide into his own twin bed, one sitting next to Herald’s in the slightly cramped apartment. Herald reached under Jericho’s bed, maneuvering through the darkness to retrieve Jericho’s sitar.

Herald chuckled. “You know, I’m a jazz player. I’m still practicing with string instruments. Is that all good? I might play badly.”

Jericho grinned, offering a thumbs-up. He nestled against the cotton pillow and pulled the warm comforters to his neck. He made himself comfortable and closed his eyes.

Herald plucked the strings with the infrequent, offbeat twang. He shifted his fingers along and played what he hoped was a soothing song, mumbling apologies for any mistakes. He was not exactly experienced with sitars, but they were similar to guitars, and Jericho had taught him basic lullabies. Herald hummed along with the calming music, and Jericho reached out, gently setting his hand on Herald’s thigh.

Lulling into a world of slumber through music was how he put his parents to sleep and forget the pain. Jericho indulged himself with Herald’s music, flying through happier memories with his mother, father, and older brother when he would play acoustic tunes before bedtime. The homely atmosphere, recreated with Herald’s playing, tugged Jericho’s lips into a deep smile.

With his eyes closed, Jericho felt Herald’s lips press against his own. He relaxed, feeling the alluring pull of sleep and song nestle him to dreamland. He heard Herald whisper to him good night, and Jericho patted Herald’s thigh, drifting off for a perfect rest.


End file.
